Not As Anticipated
by Skeptical Mutt
Summary: Yet another Triangle of Power fic. Set during Generations, from Spock's POV as he learns of Kirk's death aboard the Enterprise B.


A/N: I was watching "The Deadly Years" and thought I would write this. It's sort of one of the Triangle of Power series, but sort of not. Set during Generations, but not a cross over fanfiction. You'll see. Read and enjoy. No previous knowledge of the Triangle of Power necessary, however this humble author would love if you would read and review those other stories as well. Set in Spock's POV

Not As Anticipated

"_You're a traitorous… disloyal. You stab me in the back the first chance you get? Spock… get out. I never want to have to look at you again." _Words spoken by a man, by my best friend, many years ago as a crotchety old man that was facing death at the hands of age. I stood staring at the communication notice with a numb heart. James Tiberius Kirk was dead. Lost to the black void that was space, died saving the Enterprise B from an energy wave. Knowing that he died as he lived, fighting for the life of everybody aboard the Enterprise, was hardly any comfort.

I let the paper fall to the floor, swept away from me by the hot Vulcan wind. Just like that paper, so too was James Kirk swept from my life. I should have been by his side, the one place that I truly belonged. I had not thought that the christening of a new ship and a brief flight around Saturn and back would be dangerous, had not thought that Jim might need me. And so here I stood, in the main hall of my father's residence, alone, contemplating. I knew what was coming next, and thus it was no surprise to me to hear a lilting Southern drawl fill the room.

"Spock… Jim is… well, he's dead Spock." Ah yes, the good doctor was very drunk. Brandy, from the smell of him I thought as I watched him ease into a chair. He was old as well, showing his age worse than Jim had. He must have gotten on a flight to get here as soon as he heard the news. He must have thought that I would need him, the last third of our triangle, in order to process Jim's death. He was very right.

Although I was getting older, I am half Vulcan, and even though my lifespan is diluted by my human blood, I always knew I would outlive my two best friends, my brothers. I just thought that they would die old men, in their beds. Not torn from my life suddenly and from something that should have been an easy thing. I suppose it should not surprise me that Jim had died in the way that he did. He had always had more of a sense of duty than any other human alive. Except the one looking at me now, expecting me to crack.

"Yes, Leonard. I just received the news." I settled into the chair next to his and stared into those dull blue eyes. Every day for decades those blue eyes had been paired with hazel eyes, and now I would never see those hazel eyes again. He held his hand out to me, and although I was never fond of physical contact from anybody but Jim, I slid my hand into his. We were two thirds of a triangle that would never again be completed. A single tear slid down his cheek. "He died bravely, fighting for the Enterprise. He would have called it a good death." My voice was not steady, I noticed, as Leonard merely glanced at me then shook his head.

"Playing with life, he was always playing games and gambling with his life. It should have been more precious to him." McCoy's voice was angry now, and he let go of my hand suddenly. "I always thought he was too stubborn to die. I suppose in the end, even James T. Kirk was human." He let out one heavy sigh then looked sideways at me. "I don't suppose you have any Saurian Brandy in this desert rock?" He didn't need any more, of course. I didn't say this. I merely quirked an eyebrow at him then rose to my feet.

"Yes, I'll get you some." I kept bottles of that and Romulan ale in the house, specifically for when Jim and Leonard came to visit. He knew that. He also knew that he didn't need any more. My filling a glass for him represented all that he and Jim had strived to teach me for years, that humans were sometimes illogical and that sometimes emotions were too strong to govern with mere logic. Sometimes liberal amounts of alcohol were needed. Although both men had tried to get me interested in this habit, I had declined on every occasion. Today though, I poured myself a glass of brandy and handed the other glass to McCoy.

He gave me a weak smile. "Finally giving in to a human habit, eh Spock?" His tone lacked its normal bite. He took the glass and slugged back half of it. I took a smaller sip of my drink then cleared my throat. "Leonard, there is nobody else with whom I would indulge as company today. I thank you for coming here to check on me." I copied a move I had seen Jim make countless times and swirled the brandy in its glass. I lifted the glass and looked at him with some measure of regret. "To James Tiberius Kirk, may he have found peace at last in a sea of turmoil."

McCoy copied me then finished his brandy. "Spock?" He was very inebriated and at first I could not make out my name. Realizing that he was about to be unconscious, I took the glass from him and pulled him to his feet. "Come, Doctor. We will speak in the morning." Leaving him in the quarters that were always prepared for him, I shut the door quietly and came to stand at the door leading to Jim's permanent quarters in my house. I touched the doorknob hesitantly. When Jim had resided in those quarters I had never hesitated to knock, to open the door and walk in. Now I did.

Taking a deep breath I pushed the door open and immediately was lost in memories of Jim. He had been here, on Vulcan, mere days before leaving to christen the Enterprise B. I could remember every detail of that conversation, of his attempts to convince me that he was happy for the new crew and that he wanted to see the new Enterprise off, that there was no reason to be concerned with his emotional state of mind. He had tried to convince me to join him, saying that both of us on the bridge for a sendoff was only good luck for the incoming crew. I had told him that luck was illogical, and that having both of us on the bridge would merely cause what he fondly referred to as a media circus.

We had dinner then, with him filling me in on how his horses were doing, on the love that he was pursuing. I had talked about the prospect of reuniting Romulus and Vulcan, of the chance for an end of enmity between our planets. We had parted the next morning, and the last I ever saw of Jim Kirk was a flashing smile, and those hazel eyes winking at me.

The memory faded away, and I blinked back the first tears I had cried since childhood. My best friend was dead. And not in any way I had anticipated. Although I should have known that Jim would face death on his own conditions, all of the logic in the world could not reason away the pain in my heart. I backed out of the room and shut the door with a trembling hand. Retreating to my room, I knelt to meditate. Peace was not forthcoming, although I had not expected it. None of this was expected. It was not as I anticipated it. And it would take many days, months, years even before this pain would go away. Until then, I would stay by Leonard McCoy's side, until he too slipped out of my life. Until our triangle was completely broken.


End file.
